Monday, 13 June 2016

GRINDR by Jack Bateman

Today I opened Grindr. Because, well, I mean, I'm gay; astray, away from that straight and narrow arrow, sharpened from blunt, shooting hard into a- I can't.Today I opened Grindr. An application for the masses of a niche which applies the application of clichés that helps raise these pillars that divide us further inside of our already stifled state. Wait... We're the queer; the abnormal whose formal role is to represent the diverse that presents itself today, but adverse circumstances have taken stance. We chop ourselves into sectioned groups, digestible scoops, of this warm silky substance that slides softly down to the stomach of... heteronormativity.Today I opened Grindr because I was horny - needed action, a transaction of lustful energy. I wanted to pick which pic of the dick I lick and stick in my-I whole heartedly believe we are forced to single ourselves out - of the closet and we close it, only to be cloaked in the 'butch', the 'lipstick', the 'straight' or the 'camp' - ; clamped on shelves as straight studs or feminized fairies. It's fairly simple - top or bottom? Postman or letterbox? which is it? wait a minute Mr Postman; tell me do give or receive because we believe these decisions are needed to retrieve your personality? I'll let you slip that letter in, letting you be the wrecker of my treasure, feeding my ever needing desire. My diet has gone quiet for quite a while, so your sausage in my roll is welcome, playing the role of your always prepared - never scared rectu- STOP. Ugh this nonstop divide; I preach this speech that each person should not be burdened with certain sickly, sticky, signatures.Today I opened Grindr, and I've clawed at gender politics, but I'm flawed, growing bored of these lies, guys, listen. I'm a contradiction - I fiction myself as this activist - what an actress I've become. The truth is the smoothness of the rainbow i follow - is harsh, defined - a shrine to the strange -an obsession, and you do not question the queer you steer towards... And I don't. Wait a minute Mr Postman, can I be the Jane to your Tarzan? The Wendy to your Peter Pan? Will you fuck me?